


More, Fen'Harel!

by ObsidianMichi



Series: Dirty Dalish Celebrations [3]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Just smut, Public Sex, Smut, nothing but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eirwen and Solas continue their explorations of each other while the Dalish celebrate as a few unwanted viewers look on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More, Fen'Harel!

**Author's Note:**

> It's just smut.

“Fen’harel!”

His fingers dug into her thighs.

Eirwen’s back curved with each thrust, her legs spread wider, pelvis tilting to allow him better access. She moaned. Shifted. Rolled against him. Her warm walls clenched tight, urging him deeper. Tightened, muscle spasm, each uncontrolled jerk of her body. “Oh…”

He could not help but smile. Tonight, there was no name on her lips other than his.

“Ah!” Eirwen cried. “Fenedhis!”

Solas drove into her, feeling every inch of her channel, its slick friction, constricting as she writhed and twisted. Sweat slid down her back, dripping over his fingers, her trembling thighs tilting as he slammed forward. In and out, in and out. He could sense how close she was. Again, each spasm, each tightening muscle, harder, faster.

“Solas! Oh! Cr… Fen’harel! Please! Fen’harel!”

“Ma lath,” he murmured.

Were he a praying man, Solas might have thanked whichever deity inspired her friends with such an idea. _Away from their camp, daring each other to cry out to the Dread Wolf in their moments of climax._ A childish game to be certain, useless as throwing coppers at the Void. A game perhaps hundreds of Dalish teens played. He did not know if it comforted him, the idea they taunted him like he was some kind of bogeyman. Whether he was an evil spirit come to prey upon them or the butt of a joke they played upon each other, he could not deny it now worked in his favor. _Eirwen is fond of such games._ She enjoyed a good dare immeasurably, enjoyed the challenge, and she knew he did not believe in gods, Dalish or otherwise.

He lost nothing by engaging. Risked nothing. And gained… everything.

 _So close, vhenan,_ he thought, slamming deeper. _My heart, my heart. So, close._

“Ma… nuvenin… Fen’harel!”

His hips rocked faster, pelvis tilting, harder. Quicker. Felt her throb. Felt her walls convulse, squeezing around him. Her wriggling jerk, her entire body stiffen as she climaxed. He groaned, feeling his own orgasm go in the onslaught of her rushing heat. It roared through him. Pounding into her.

“ _Fen’harel!_ ”

 

***

 

Sera giggled. “Wanna peek?”

“No.” Blackwall leaned back against the tree trunk, resting his fist on his knee. He closed his eyes. Even from here, he could hear and the closeness left him uncomfortable. _As if I’m hearing something I shouldn’t be listening to._ A private moment, a very private moment. One in which Solas would undoubtedly kill them over, if he noticed. _Of course, that requires he look up and listen._ How could he when he was in the throes of that embrace? How did a man turn away from that? _While they’re the worst kept secret in Skyhold, they’re also almost certainly the most chaste._ Clearly, their Herald wasn’t holding the cart back. How did Solas ignore it day in and day out? Ignore her? Just the sound alone of their lovemaking was going to haunt Blackwall’s dreams for the next few nights and perhaps the days as well. He couldn’t imagine… No, those thoughts were altogether improper. Dreams he didn’t want to be having when their resident dream expert was asleep nearby. _Not when he’s already trying to fight off temptation._

Void! He wasn’t even attracted to their Herald. _Not that she’d ever turn her eyes my direction. Not that I’d want her to._ He certainly had his own troubles. “They deserve their privacy, Sera,” he said. “They get precious little of it.”

“Oh please,” Sera replied. Her fingers pushing through the branches. “Pretend all you like, but I know you’re just as curious to see the Inquisitor’s _‘oh’_ face.”

“I’m just here to keep you out of trouble,” Blackwall said. “Grab you in case you’ve got any ideas about ruining the moment.”

“Oooh, but she’s getting him good,” Sera said. “Bet he’s gonna cry out ‘Elven glory’ any second.”

They were crossing so many lines by simply being this close. “Sera.”

“She’s _really_ loud too.” Sera giggled. “Screamer. Knew it.”

“Must be enjoying herself,” Blackwall replied. _Unbelievable that we’re even having this conversation._ “Clearly, Solas makes her happy.”

“Doubt it. Doesn’t even call _his_ name.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Blackwall said. “But I think you’re jealous.”

“Not hardly! Could do better though,” Sera said. “Besides, bet we’re not the only ones watching.”

“Everyone else seems to be a little too busy having sex to care.”

Sera snorted, letting the bushes go. “Spoilsport.”

 

***

 

The words echoed out into the night. A wild, joyous cry, unabashed and unashamed.

Solas slumped against her, arms closing about her waist. Resting a sweaty forehead on her slick back. He’d never known how much he’d wanted her to call his name, not until tonight. He with his head swimming, half-drunk on Dalish summer wine. Foolishly like an idiot, he encouraged her. _I should not have allowed this to go so far._

“Solas?”

His nose trailed up the curve of her spine. He kissed to the small of her back.

“Let me up,” she laughed. Her hands braced the statue, body quivering. “You’re heavy.”

“Oh, vhenan?” Solas murmured. “Is that so?” Fingertips scaled her waist, tiny and light like the feet of a spider, until he found the ticklish spots above her stomach. He skated across them, slick on her skin.

She squealed, attempting to jerk upright. “Solas!” He felt her try to shake him off. Rolling this way and that, until her feet slid on wet grass and she lost her balance.

Instead of catching her, he let himself go with her and, together, they crashed to the dirt in a small heap.

Rolling away from the statue, Eirwen straightened. Scrambled on top of him. Her warm, trembling thighs clenching around his waist as her hands pressed into his shoulders. Dark blue irises gleamed down in the moonlight, her swollen lips licking away sweat from flushed skin. Her cheeks burned red. Her pale skin glinted, shadows passing across her shoulders, catching in her cleavage and the gray wrap serving to support her breasts.

For all he’d stolen the rest of her clothes, the bra escaped him. _I must remedy that._

His hands slid up her waist. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he said.

Eirwen leaned down until her stomach pressed flat on his chest, her breasts crushed against him, and her hot breath cooled on his skin. Orange bangs fell across her brow, flopping across her forehead and dripping. Satisfaction stretched in each line of her body as she uncoiled. Smiling, she lifted a hand and let her fingertip toy with his ear. Propping an elbow on his chest, she rested her chin on her palm. “Ar lath ma,” she replied. “I do love you.”

Solas smiled and traced her cheek with his finger. “Tired, ma lath?”

“Never!” Eirwen declared. Her cheery voice carried away by the night air. Her arm flattened on his chest and she buried her nose between his pectorals. Then, she leaned up and planted a kiss on his chin. “Give me tomorrow, vhenan, and I’ll give you forever!”

He laughed.

Every lover came with their own set of quirks, their own needs, their own places that made them quiver and quake beneath understanding hands. Every man and woman a little different in their wants. Some sighed contentedly when they came, in soft shivering gasps. Others cried out. Some required little encouragement, others needed careful management.

Andruil had thrashed, moaned, bit, and hit on her way to climax.

Eirwen… He smiled. Eirwen required the game. She needed to be teased, toyed with, taken to the furthest edge and then denied. Tormented. She could be dominated as much as she enjoyed dominating. Take charge if she had to, but just as free to release control. She had no need to cling to it tightly, and he never forgot her gift. In any moment, the control was hers to reclaim. She wanted to play, to enjoy and to be enjoyed. More than anything, she needed time.

If a lover gave her that, she returned the favor enthusiastically. Wildly and freely on long, slow nights that felt never ending.

 _Yes,_ his fingers stretched out and he traced his fingers down her cheek, _never ending_. The burning heat of her tingling on his hand, tiny drips catching on his thumb. _This will end one day._ He inhaled slowly. _Soon._

A warm smile answered him, white teeth glinting in the moonlight. Those eyes—the summer blue of a midday sky—gazed up at him, crinkling around the edges, lashes fluttering. Flushed cheeks, lips swollen from his kisses, fingers already sliding down his neck to wander his chest as she straddled him.

_One day. In the future, neither of us control. Not tonight._

Tonight, she was his.

His hands moved to her thighs, thumbs sliding up white flesh to tickle the inside of her legs.

She yelped, back jerking up straight.

He laughed. Seized her waist. Bucked her forward with a thrust of his. Rolled sideways. Her back hit the grass with a thump, taught thighs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing to grip him tight. He settled in between them, running his hands up her stomach. Finger tips skating across the faint lines of muscles, he pressed a soft kiss to her bellybutton.

“Solas,” she gasped. Warm hands clenched around the back of his head, nails biting his scalp.

“Yes, ma lath?” he murmured.

“You’re…”

He shifted against her.

She trailed off with a soft moan. Her back arched. Lashes fluttering.

“Yes?” Solas laughed.

Lips and hands drifted up the curve of her ribcage. Until he reached her breasts. He leaned down, teeth undoing the rough leather straps holding the contraption together. He might have used his fingers were they not already engaged.

Eirwen giggled. “You’re imp…”

His thumb snuck beneath a layer of stiff, gray linen, stroking soft skin.

Her body shivered, hips rotating on his groin, legs loosening.

“I cannot hear you, _da’len_.” The first knot gave way. His right hand sliding under fabric, he cupped her breast with warm fingers. He rolled his palm over silky skin, ever so slowly. Ever so gently. His tongue flicked inside his mouth. Lips pulling tight in anticipation. His index finger and thumb closed on her nipple. He leaned closer. “What is it?”

“Impossible!”

He gave it a twist.

She gasped.

“Indeed,” he murmured. He undid the second knot. “It is true enough.”

Eirwen snickered.

“No, I retract,” she said. Her legs tightened back around him, her fingers dipping to run over her chest. They traced the line of his knuckles, sliding up his wrist to his forearm, and upward. Blue eyes, darkened by desire, locked on his. Her lips quirking into a challenging grin. “I believe you are incorrigible, _hahren_.”

“And you,” his fingers skimmed her nipple, “are utterly irreverent.”

“Fen’harel?” The question jumped from her lips in a laugh. “May the Dread Wolf take me?”

 _He might just._ Heart pounding against his ribcage, he stilled his breathing. “Is that what you want, ma lath?” he asked softly, voice husky.

The third knot fell away and the cloth binding popped free, sliding away to the grass with a flick of his hands. He pressed a kiss between her breasts, her hips tightening against his. He leaned further forward. Fingers quickening around her nipples, rotating inward from the very edge of outer pink circle to each puckered peak.

“Oh,” she whispered. “I think so.”

“As usual, quite indecisive.” He chuckled. Lips closing on her left nipple, he took her into his mouth. Warm tongue sliding up, then down, he sucked it hard to the roof of his mouth. Nipping a soft pink tip with his teeth, he heard another gasp. A soft moan, air squeezing between her lips. Felt her wriggle. Hands falling away from his arms. “Is this,” his lips kissed around the edge of her nipple, “what you want?”

She gasped. “Yes!”

He grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I found this on my computer and it's in two pieces. I never actually finished it... but I figured those of you that liked the first smutty piece might enjoy this one.


End file.
